


The King and His Queen

by ironfairy



Series: His Queen [1]
Category: Pentatonix, Scomiche - Fandom, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:45:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironfairy/pseuds/ironfairy
Summary: Prince Scott Hoying brings a farm boy photographer and artist, Mitch Grassi to the Palace after being discovered by Esther. This boy is a little weird and Scott loves it. All the Palace staff notices the special attention this boy gets from the Prince, and becomes confused by it. However, Mitch remains oblivious.Esther confronts Scott about this, but is sworn to secrecy by him as a Prince fraternizing with a boy could get them both into a lot of trouble.But Scott can't help it, and neither can Mitch.(This was inspired by @KareBearStare's story Harem on Wattpad and The Selection Series by Kiera Cass, so go check both of those out!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I can't see myself when I'm with you. I can only see you." - unknown

To the people of Avendale, Mitch is no longer Mitch Grassi, farm boy and son of Mr Mike and Nel Grassi, but is rather Mitch Grassi, Palace photographer and artist. Mitch was brought into the Palace from Kandallah, a rural area of Avendale filled with farms and forests, and the suppliers of agriculture. As a man, Mitch was destined to be in the next generation of farmers, but showed no interest. He was too petite and delicate to fulfil expectations, and his older sister was better suited for the job. Whispers and worry for the Grassi family went around in fear of consequences for having a female run the farm, and a male pursuing photography.

In reality, there were no consequences but rather confusion of how they were going against the expectations of society with absolutely no hesitation.

All resistance was gone once the farm became one of the most successful in Kandallah, and Mitch’s portraits were gaining popularity, and were attaining attention from the palace.

Esther Kaplan, the Palace’s newspaper co-ordinator came across Mitch’s photographs and was amazed as how new technology was used in such a creative way, and it worked beautifully. Before Mitch could blink he was signing a confidentiality contract, his parents received a large sum of money, and he was uprooted and sent to live at the Palace in Central Avendale.

Before his move, Mitch never had a reason to visit Central Avendale, so he never did. He was amazed at the lack of trees and grass, and was stunned into silence as he passed the tall buildings, the uniquely shaped buildings, and the ones that looked exactly like home. CA looked like houses and buildings from all over Avendale had been put into one place, making it mismatched and beautiful.

Mitch had never seen anything like it, and it was love at first sight.

He arrived at the palace and couldn’t speak. He’d seen it in paintings, and very few photographs, but never in real life. Being this close meant he saw the patterns in the brickwork, and the gardens. Oh, the gardens, he’d never seen so much colour. As soon as his foot hit the gravel he waltzed over and bent to sniff the fragrance of the flowers. There were all colours of roses, sun flowers strategically placed so the backs weren’t seen, lilies, daisies, frangipanis, daffodils, you name it, it’s there.

The person in charge of greeting and escorting Mitch to his room began to grow impatient, but a scolding from the guards made him a little more willing. After a good twenty minutes, Mitch gave in and swore to himself he would return.

The gravel under his feet crunched as he made his way to the entry of the palace. The sun shining behind him made his back warm, and when he breathed in all he could smell was the scent of fresh flowers and cut grass.

“Hi, I’m Mitch.” He stuck his hand out to the buff looking guy with a man bun and a beard.

“Yes, I’m aware. Follow me.” He turned on his heels, leaving Mitch standing there staring at his hand left hanging there. Mitch scrunched up his face in displeasure. He thought the Palace staff were some of the nicest people in Avendale. Maybe not.

Mitch scurried up the few steps and through the awaiting doors, following after the rude, nameless, man.

He was given a tour of the Palace, told where he could go and where he couldn’t. The Prince’s and King’s offices were allowed when attending business, the Prince’s, and the King and Queen’s bedrooms were strictly off limits, and were visited under no circumstances.

He was shown to his room that had a fireplace in front of the bed. His bags were stacked in a nice pile at the end of it. The bed was massive; he’d never seen one so big. He could physically see how comfy it was, and Mitch couldn’t wait until he could curl up underneath the blankets and not get out for hours. The adjoining bathroom and closet were decently sized, but it was the balcony that peaked his interest. There was a little wicker table and matching chair out there, overlooking the garden and its collection of colours. He could see himself spending a lot of time out here, just drawing and drinking coffee.

Mitch was so entranced he forgot his escort was leaning on the doorframe watching his every move with a smirk on his face.

“You really are a farm boy from Kandallah aren’t you?” He said. His voice was so low Mitch cause just feel the vibrations of it in his chest.

“Yeah, I suppose. My family isn’t poor, but we’re not wealthy either. And we just don’t do things so… extravagantly.”

Mitch’s eyes never stopped from wandering around the room, discovering the details in the wallpaper, and the only just noticeable chipping of the paint on the mantle.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet, we have to introduce you to the Prince.”

“Prince as in… Prince Scott?”

The bearded man rolled his eyes and sighed. “Nah, the Prince of Scotland. Yes, Prince Scott.”

“Oh… OH. Oh shit.”

Man Bun raised his eyebrows, “oh shit?”

“Yes, oh shit.”

Man Bun chuckled, “why oh shit?”

Mitch gave him a ‘duh’ look, “because I’m about to meet the hottest guy in Avendale, who also happens to be the Prince, and I uh… I look like genuine trash.”

Man Bun laughed, eyeing Mitch’s casual jeans and plaid coat. “And?”

“And? And, I don’t want the Prince to think his new employee is horrid.”

“How old are you if you used the word horrid?”

Mitch looked offended. “I’m 19.”

“Ahh, that explains it.” Man Bun said as he pushed himself off the doorframe and began to straighten out his clothes.

“What explains what?”

“Why you care so much.”

Mitch sighed deeply, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I care because I actually have standards.”

“Ouch. C’mon then,” he says jerking his head towards the outside of the room, “let’s take you to meet your dearest Prince.”

Mitch sighed but followed anyway.

“I still look like trash,” he says following Man Bun, eyeing the portraits of the previous royalty. Mitch screws up his nose a bit at the clothes and wigs they’re wearing.

“And it still doesn’t matter,” Man Bun says as he leads a slow walking Mitch up the stairs towards the Prince’s office.

Mitch’s eyes widen. “So, this is technically business, then?”

“Yes, an employee is meeting his employer. End of story.”

Mitch jogs a little to catch up with him. “Wait, so all the staff is employed by the Prince?”

Man Bun shakes his head, “no, only you.”

Mitch stops. “Me? Why me? Who are you guys contracted to then?”

Man Bun sighs heavily again. “God, you ask a lot of questions. You are employed by the Prince, because he wanted to be in charge of you. And we, are employed by the King. For the same reason.”

“But… So… The Prince knows who I am?”

“The Prince knows everyone that steps foot in the Palace. Hey, Hoying!” He shouts opening the heavy wooden door, revealing the Prince. “Your new toy is here.”

Mitch stops. The room is filled with sunlight making his eyes the bluest he’s ever seen. His hair is a light, golden blonde, waxed back into its usual style. Mitch has never see him so casual before, in his grey sweatpants and tank top. Mitch is more dressed up than he is, but still, he’s the one who looks like trash compared to this blonde beauty. Being sleeveless gives Mitch a perfect view of his biceps. Holy damn. He looks better than the pictures in person.

Mitch remembers he’s the Prince, and he would never feel the same because he’s attracted to girls, and he has them lined up at his feet. Literally. He snaps out of his trance fast enough to hear the Prince say, “Hey Avi.”

Mitch laughs, “so your names not Man Bun then, it’s Avi?”

Scott laughs, and Avi gives Mitch a death glare.

“What?” He fakes innocence. “You never told me your name, so I gave you one from an observable trait.”

“Avi.” Scott scolds. “You’ve been with him for what,” he looks at his watch, “45 or so minutes and you never told Mitchell your name?”

“What?” Avi shrugs. “The less he knows the better.”

Scott glares at him.

“Oh, Your Highness, it’s just Mitch. I’m just Mitch.”

“Alright, just Mitch,” Scott claps. “Has Man Bun over here shown you around, gotten you settled?”

Mitch laughs, and Avi walks out, shaking his head, saying, “that’s never going away.”

Mitch shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “A little bit.”

Scott begins to tidy up his piles. “Well, I’ll show you a little more.”

Mitch reaches his hand out to stop him, “oh, no, sir, I don’t want to be a bother, you have work to do. I’ll figure it all out eventually.”

He stops and looks at Mitch right in the eyes.

“Why wait longer when I can speed the process up and get to know the person who’ll be following me and my family around a little better.”

“I suppose when you put it that way, Your Highness. Sure.”

“Okay, just Mitch, I’m just Scott.”

Mitch smiled and wondered how he was going to stop himself from falling in love with this very, very, straight man.

Scott ended up showing Mitch around all the floors; the basement which has the kitchen, pantry and laundry, the makeshift doctors room (which in reality is only used for check-ups and shots, as most people get taken to the hospital in the city centre), as well as the staff lounge and dining area. The second floor is the staff accommodation, where Mitch’s bedroom is. The third is the staff studios and offices. (Mitch will have his room potentially tomorrow, because the final coat of a nice pastel blue paint is drying). The fourth is where the girls from the elimination will stay, which is usually guest bedrooms. The fifth is royal family’s offices, or studios in the case of the Queen. And the sixth floor is the royal family’s bedrooms. There’s the roof that has a staircase to access it, but no one ever does, because too many stairs, but Mitch made a note to check it out.

After the tour, duties called, and Scott had to leave Mitch to explore.

He took this moment to take a break and have a breather as everything was go, go, go, since he got there. He also had to evaluate his feelings that he knew would grow. Mitch couldn’t help but smile at everything Scott said, he was so excited to tell Mitch stuff about the Palace that he would stop halfway through a sentence and would start talking about something else.

Mitch couldn’t help but smile at way Scott’s hair fell into his forehead, so he’d run his hands through it to put it back into place.

Mitch knew he was falling in love with a Prince, who was very straight, and who, in a few years will hold a competition to find his wife, and the future Queen of Avendale. He couldn’t help but frown at the thought.

He ran back to his room to grab his sketchbook and the charcoals he’d packed, and took them to check out the roof.

Mitch counted on his way up, and there were just over 100 stairs. At least he’d lose a few kilos running up these stairs all the time.

He was shocked at the view when he got there. He wondered why no one came up here, the beauty of it left him speechless. From where he was standing he was overlooking the colourful gardens, and he could faintly see the gardeners doing their work. In the distance, he could see the tall buildings in the city centre, and it was just so beautiful.

So, Mitch sketched. He drew was he saw, and drew what he didn’t. Before he knew it, the sun was setting, and he didn’t want to stop drawing.

He was so in his zone he didn’t even realise the Prince was calling for him. Mitch didn’t know he was there until he was intentionally blocking his view.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness! I didn’t notice you were here!” Mitch began stuttering his words, he was that apologetic.

“Whoa, it’s alright, Mitch, I know you were in your zone. I’m not offended.”

“But, I feel so disrespectful!” He said, as Scott took a seat next to him, looking at what he was working on.

“It’s honestly alright, Mitch. Wow,” he said looking at the drawings, “May I?” Scott asked, motioning towards Mitch’s sketchbook.

Mitch was shocked beyond words so he just nodded his head, and handed the book over.

He came across a few portraits of his house, his bedroom, their land, the town centre, all the stuff from home. Mitch got a bit nostalgic looking at those, as they were drawn over a year ago, and he wishes he did some more recent ones before he left.

Scott came across the picture Mitch had drawn in coloured pencil of his family. He drew it last Christmas, he can tell as there’s a brightly coloured Christmas tree in the background.

“That’s my Mom, Nel, and my Dad, Mike,” he points out. “And that’s my older sister, Addison, and her husband Mark, and that’s my niece, Lucy.”

 “Wow, Mitch, you’re so talented.”

“Well, I guess if I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here.” He chuckles.

“Will you miss them?”

“I do miss them. I haven’t seen them in months. Addison took her family on a road-trip around Avendale. They get back next week. I’ve missed them every day since they left, and I’ll miss them every day until I see them again.”

“You really love your family, don’t you?” Scott asks.

“Yeah, I do. They’re all I’ve ever known. I’ve never had any friends. I’m a gay boy from Kandallah, who decided to do what no one else does. I have no friends, no relationships, nothing. I only have them.”

“You have me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out."   
> ― Ally Carter, Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover

Mitch had trouble falling asleep the night before, the words of Prince Scott’s lingering in his mind. So, when the maid, who he learned was named Jennifer, Jenny for short, came in knocking for him to wake up, he groaned and stuffed his head under the pillow.

“C’mon Mitchell, I have coffee.”

Mitch groaned. Coffee did sound good.

Mitch slid his head out from under the pillow and scoulded her. “It’s Mitch, Jenny. If you call me Mitchell, I’ll call you Jennifer. Alright?”

Her face screwed up in disgust. Mitch chuckled. “Yeah, I thought so.”

While Jenny was distracted, Mitch took the opportunity to slide deeper into the bed, and stick his head under the covers.

Jenny saw this, however, and began pulling the covers off him.

“Jenny, no, you’ll ruin the bed.”

“I have to make it anyway. C’mon, up you get.”

“Noooooooo,” he whined, holding the covers tight to his body.

“Don’t make me get Avi or Kevin to come flip the mattress.”

Mitch’s head shot up, hair sticking up in all directions. “You wouldn’t.”

Jenny grinned, “I would.”

“I don’t believe you.” Mitch said sternly, and he stuck his head back under the covers.

He listened for noise. None came. Until, he heard a loud “Keevvviiinnnnn!”

Mitch groaned. He still has about five minutes until Kevin actually gets here. He doesn’t know Kevin that well, so he doesn’t think he would actually do it.

He hears muffled talking, so he squeezes his eyes shut, and mentally prepares for himself to be tipped.

He was confused when nothing came, but a crack of knees like someone was crouching.

Mitch feels a gentle hand on the bed, and he is nothing but confused. The gentle hand starts pulling back the covers, and he feels air on the top of his head, so he opens his eyes, and is greeted with the eyes of the Prince.

His eyes widen, and the first thing Mitch can think of to say is: “you’re not Kevin.”

Scott laughs, and replies: “no, I’m not. But I can go get him if you’d like.” While gestering to the door behind him.

“No, no, no,” Mitch shakes his head, “it’s okay.”

Scott smiles. “I hear Jennifer’s having trouble getting you out of bed,” he laughs, “not even coffee could bribe you out?”

“It normally would, but this bed is just so comfy…”

“Well, the bed awaits you for another night later on, but right now you gotta get to business.”

“But I don’t wanna.” Mitch whines.

“Well, I guess we won’t set up your studio today then.”

Before Scott could blink, a boxer-clad teenager was bolting to the bathroom shouting: “Give me five minutes!”

He stands up, shaking his head and chuckling, seeing Jenny with wide eyes standing in the doorway. Her face scrunches and she sighs, “how did you do that? I’ve been trying for twenty minutes, and not even coffee would lure him out!”

Scott smiles, “I’m a Prince, I’m magical.” He laughs.

Jenny shakes her head at him, but before she could lecture him, he’s walking out the door yelling: “Get him to meet me and Esther in the kitchen when he’s done!”

Jenny begins humming to herself while making the now ruined bed. When she’s just about done Mitch walks out, smelling of lavender and vanilla, with his hair swept to the side, and an oversized jacket on his back. It makes him look delicate and small, and Jenny loves it.

“You look cute,” she says, smiling. “Prince Scott wants you to meet him and Esther in the kitchen.”

Mitch nods and heads for the door. Before he could walk out he asks: “and where is that again?”

Without looking up Jenny tells him “Down the hall to the right, down the stairs and then to your left.”

Mitch follows Jenny’s directions and is greeted with the smell of bacon and fresh pastries. “Wow,” he murmurs. The chefs and suechefs are running around with bowls and ingredients, and Mitch has never seen it so busy. He starts walking backwards towards the door he came through to try and get out of the way. He starts to panic. Scott’s meant to be here, but he’s not far enough in to see him, but he doesn’t want to get in the way again, so he just stands there and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t open them again until he feels a hand in his and he feels himself being weaved through people. He sees that the hand belongs to the Prince as he’s faced with the back of a tall blonde.

Mitch is confused when he finds this out. Aren’t workers supposed to never see the Prince, let alone 3 times in 24 hours. It gives him a little bit of hope that Scott at least likes to spend time with him.

Mitch is dragged until a short brunette lady with glasses sitting at the counter comes into his view.

Scott sits on one of the barstools facing the brunette lady, so Mitch follows suit.

“Mitchell, this is Esther, the woman who found you.”

“Oh! Right!” Mitch says, sticking out his hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you,” he greets, when she shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you too.” Esther replies.

“I guess I should thank you then,” he smiles. “For y’know, bringing me here.”

“I have an eye for talent, Mitchell. And you, young one, are very talented.”

Mitch smiles. “Oh, you can just call me Mitch.”

“I can, can I?” Esther laughs.

“Esther,” Scott warns. “Leave him be. He’s already gotten shit from your little brother.”

Esther laughs hard, and Mitch just asks, “Little brother?” confusidly.

“Yeah,” Scott chuckles. “This is Man Bun’s older sister.” He nods towards her.

“Oh yeah, I see the resemblance.” Mitch nods.

“Man Bun?” Esther asks. “Oh, that’s priceless. I’m guessing that was you.” She said, pointing to Mitch.

Mitch just smiles shyly, and nods his head.

“Right, lets get to business.” Scott announces as a cup of coffee was brought to Mitch.

“So, Mitch,” he says. “For your studio what do you have, and what do you need?”

“First of all,” he sips his coffee. “I want to turn either the bathroom or the closet into a darkroom.”

“Done.” Scott nods.

“I have paints, brushes and stuff like that, but I had to leave my easel and canvases at home. So new ones of them please.”

“Done.”

“I think that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Let me know if you think of anything else.”

“Oh!” Mitch jumps. “Is there a possibility of me being allowed to paint on the wall?”

Scott was shocked, and scrunched his face up at such a bizarre question.

“I mean, it’s okay if I’m not, I was just wondering.” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“Go for it.”

“What?” Mitch asks, nearly spitting out his coffee.

Scott laughs, “why ask the question if you thought I was going to say no?”

“I don’t know!” Mitch shrugs. “I just thought you wouldn’t let me paint the walls of the Palace, for blatant reasons, but it was worth a shot.”

“Do it.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m deadly serious, do it.”

Mitch’s eye’s widened, he chugged the last of his coffee, and he was off.

Esther had a smug look on her face as she drunk her coffee and watched Scott watch Mitch leave.

“You dad is going to kill you if he finds out about this.”

“It’s a wall, we can paint over it.”

“That too, but I’m not talking about the wall.”

“What are you talking about then?”

“Mitch, I'm talking about Mitch.”

“What about Mitch?” Scott asks.

“That you like him.”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I'm straight Esther, I don’t know what you're talking about.” Scott denies, drinking his coffee.

“You're about as straight as a bendy ruler! Sometimes you are, most of the time you're not.”

“Esther!” Scott scolds.

Esther smirks. “I’m right and you know it.”

Scott huffs and whispers, “Okay, you are. Does that make you happy?” Esther nods.

“But,” he emphasises. “If you tell a soul, I’ll be hung for being gay and I’ll make sure you're right there next to me. Got it?”

Esther nodded her head, confused. “Being gay isn’t a crime.”

“It’s not. But it’s a sin. So, if you’re royality it is. Y’know religious beliefs and that shit.”

Esther nodded.

“I’m not going there with Mitch. If people find out we both could be hung, and I’m not about to take that risk.”

“Scott, have you ever thought Mitch might think it’s worth it?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Scott, ask him.”

“No. Being his friend is good enough for me. I’ve known him for 24 hours, and that’s long enough for me to know I never want to lose him.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This was the boy I loved. A little bit messy. A little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster. Just like me."  
> ― Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

Mitch had long ago shed his jacket and had been sat painting the wall in his studio for thirty minutes, and yet he’d only done an eighth of a tree and he had paint on every visible area of skin. It doesn’t include the hour or so when Mitch had drawn the outline of what he had intended to paint, overtop of the fresh pastel blue walls. To anyone it would just look like a house on a farm next to a road and a forest, but to Mitch it was home.

He was humming along to ‘Hallelujah’ as he painted the tree trunk in different shades of brown. He was oblivious to the world around him, so that meant when Esther came in to chase him up it took three or so goes of calling his name, and a tap on the shoulder to get his attention.

She sat in the chair of his desk, watching him paint. “I went into town today and got your stuff, it’ll be delivered tomorrow morning.”

“That soon?” Mitch asks. “Usually it takes days, sometimes weeks for deliveries to arrive.”

Esther chuckles, playing with the paintbrushes on the desk. “You’re not in Kandallah anymore, Mitchell. Plus, you’re in the Palace now. We’re the number one priority.”

Mitch stops and pauses for a minute. “Oh,” he says. “Technically it’s the Prince and the King and Queen that are the top priority.”

“Yeah, I suppose they are. But it’s our duty to make their lives as easy as possible, so therefore we’re also top priority.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Mitch nods.

“You’re not used to this, are you?”

Mitch shakes his head. “No. We were at the bottom of the food chain back home. It was all my fault, since I’m gay, and our family is out of the ordinary, so usually people went out of their way to make our lives difficult, not easier.”

“Get used to this now, Mitch. People here are more accepting,” she shuffles position. “Yes, the vast majority hate gay people, but there’s at least some who are accepting of it.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He says, looking down at his hands and picking off the dried paint.

“Head up, young one,” She says, using her pointer finger to push his chin up. “The world is evolving, and you’re one of the ones who are leading it.”

Mitch smiles, looking into her eyes. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“No problem.” Esther stands up and walks towards the door. “I better see you in the kitchen for lunch in thirty minutes to finally get some food into you, or I’ll send Avi to come chase you up.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He recites, smiling.

“Good boy,” Esther laughs, walking out.

Mitch gets back to painting his tree. The amount of detail this requires; it’ll be months until he’s finished. He gets back to humming Hallelujah and mixing browns on his pallet.

Scott’s filling out the forms of Mitch’s employment when dinnertime hits. He too entranced by the papers describing Mitch and his life to focus on anything else, let alone food.

Scott scrunches up his face at the details that have been collected that have absolutely no regard to Mitch’s employment. Scott now knows that Mitch’s favourite colour is black, that he’s had no sexual partners, and remains both a virgin and un-kissed, and it makes Scott’s heart pound in his chest. He learns the backstory of the family Mitch had previously mentioned, and the extent of his education. It tells him Mitch had a childhood dog named Caramel, a reference to her golden brown fur, and that she was Mitch’s best friend.

The loneliness explains why Mitch took such a liking to art and photography, the solitude it provides, and the endless hours required to master his craft.

He felt as though he understood Mitch now, but he still doesn’t know him. Scott doesn’t know what he hates, and what makes him smile. He doesn’t know who he looks up to, and who inspires him. He doesn’t know why black is his favourite colour, and he doesn’t know what turns him on. He wants to know these things, and he wants Mitch to know the same things about himself.

What catches his eye is a copy of a picture Mitch drew when he was young. It’s marked with his age. He was five at the time, and for being so young, it is quite an extensive picture. It was a little boy drawn in blue hidden away from the group of people. The little boy could also double as a monster, and the dog by its side clued Scott in that the little boy was Mitch. Scott sighed, and frowned as his heart ached for the young boy. Even now, the pain resonates behind Mitch’s eyes, and he wished he could just scoop him up, hold him close, and stop the harsh world from hurting him any further.

Scott sighed and ran his fingers through his messy locks. He’d never felt this way before, and he didn’t know if it was a good thing, or a very bad thing.

He sat looking at the window, having a crisis about how a boy he’s known for a day is already driving him crazy when someone knocks on the door.

He looks to see Avi, sweaty and in sweatpants saying “Esther’s making me do the lunch rounds, she’s already going to yell at Mitch, so you better haul ass and get down to the kitchen before she goes ape-shit on you.”

Scott laughs and stands up.

“What’d Mitch do?” He asks Avi while walking towards the kitchen.

“Skipped breakfast, and lunch ‘cause he’s been so busy doing something he forgot to eat.”

“That would be painting his wall.” Scott states.

“Painting his what?”

“His wall.”

“Why the fuck is he painting his wall?” Avi exclaimed.

“Because he wanted to.”

“So he just started painting the wall that’s just been painted because he wanted to? Oh, Rick is going to kill him when he finds out.” Avi laughs.

“Actually, he’s going to kill me. I’m the one who said he could.”

“Why did you do that?” Avi asks stopping in the middle of the staircase. “You do know that your father is going to murder you when he finds out.”

Scott shrugs, looking up at him. “He already has twelve-thousand reasons to kill me, why not make it twelve-thousand and one?”

“You really are a dumb bastard, aren’t you Hoying?” He laughs.

“Oh, heck yeah. If he’s going to kill me anyway, why shouldn’t I do shit to make it worth it?”

They laugh as they walk into the kitchen, but stop when they hear a petite boy being yelled at by the unofficial staff Mom.

Mitch is sitting at the counter they sat at this morning, picking at the paint on his hands, not looking at the women yelling at him.

“How could you be so stupid?” Esther paces.

“Thirty-six hours. Thirty-six hours and all you’ve put in your body is coffee.” She sighs.

“Mitch, you can’t live like this.” She softens.

“I know.” He mumbles. Scott could only him as they had made their way behind him.

Esther leans across the counter to talk to Mitch, noticing Scott in the process. She uses he fingers to force Mitch to look at her.

“What is it, honey?”

Mitch shrugs.

“Are you forgetting, or do you not want to?”

Scott’s stance softens. Mitch’s head snaps up.

“No, no, no,” he insists. “No. It’s not that. It is so not that.”

“What is it then?” She asks softly.

“I miss my Mom,” he says quietly as a tear rolls down his cheek. “I’ve never been away from her before. So,” he sniffs. “I throw myself into painting to forget, and I just forget everything else too.” Mitch wipes away his tears, and his shoulders slump.

He goes pack to picking away the paint on his hands. A nervous habit, Scott learns.

Everyone, even the nearby workers are shocked into silence. All heartbroken for the little Kandallian boy.

Esther looks up at Scott and Avi for guidance. For the first time in her life, she’s unsure as to what to do. Avi shrugs. Scott just mouths: “feed him, we’ll go from there.” She nods, and scurries off to get a plate of food.

She returns, and is placing the bowl of mac ‘n cheese in front of Mitch before he can even notice she’s gone.

Everyone watches as he pushes it around the bowl before putting a forkful in his mouth.

He looks up, and behind him, and notices all the eyes. He swallows before he asks; “are y’all just gonna stand there?”

Scott laughs and takes a seat next to him, before the Kaplan’s follow suit. Immediately a bowl is placed in front of him, and not long after, everyone else.

“Tell us about yourself Mitch.” Scott states, mixing his bowl. Mitch goes to speak but Scott interrupts.

“Sorry,” he says, as Mitch closes his mouth. “Tell us the stuff that isn’t in your file.”

Mitch stops. “What’s in my file?”

“The basics.” He grins.

“Oh,” Mitch pauses to think. He smiles, and then speaks. “I love pet names, nicknames, whatever you call them. They’re personal, and unique to the person calling you it.” He smiles.

“My favourite food is cheesecake because its bomb as fuck.” They all laugh at his wording.

“I love to draw and paint people and nature,” he continues. “They’re so unique and beautiful.”

They all sit and listen attentively, wanting to know everything about this boy.

“I love my home.” His voice cracks, and his eyes get watery again. “I love everything about it. The house, the land, the people and all the memories in it.”

Scott smiles, sadly, rubbing his back as the tears roll down his cheeks. “You can make new memories here, with the new places and the new people.”

Mitch nods. “I’ll just take a little while to adjust.”

“And that’s okay,” Scott whispers. “All you’ve ever known is your home, and it’ll take a while to warm up to being here. It’s a completely different environment.”

“Let’s make a deal.”

Mitch wipes his eyes, and listens.

“You eat that whole bowl,” Scott nods towards the mac ‘n cheese. “And then I’ll take you to my happy place.”

Mitch smiles, and nods, digging into his food.

He can see the smirks on the Kaplan’s faces, but all he can thing about is the sad Kandallian boy in his care.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone has a story. It's simply a question of finding it."  
> ― Jennifer Castle, You Look Different in Real Life

Mitch’s hand was in the crook of Scott’s elbow, already so comfortable with the Prince he’s personally known for less than two days. Scott was leading him to the parts of the Palace he hasn’t seen, but has been told about. Specifically told he wasn’t allowed to go.

There were less staff in these parts. A maid yet to be seen, and a few guards stationed here and there.

Mitch heard the voice of a man, a familiar voice, but louder and more commanding than the one he knew. Mitch stopped in his tracks and dropped his hand once he figured out who the voice belonged to. The King can’t’ve been too far away as Mitch could hear his words clearly.

“Mitch?” Scott asked, once he’d seen him stop.

“Is that?” He points to the general direction of the voice.

“My father? Yes. He’s harmless, don’t worry. C’mon.” Scott flicks his head.

Mitch rapidly shakes his, and begins to take small steps backwards.

Scott rushes to stop him, as he almost backs into a guard, and apologises to them immediately.

“Look,” Scott says, reaching for Mitch’s shoulders, forcing Mitch to look at him. “He’s harmless. And in his room. If we walk pass quietly, he won’t even notice we’re there, okay?”

Mitch nodded suspiciously. Scott saw the doubt in his eyes, and fear in the way his shoulders hunched. This made Scott grab his hand, and see him visibly relax in the comforting touch.

Scott pulled him down the hall, and could hear Mitch release the breath he didn’t even know he was holding as the King’s voice became quieter the further down the hall they got.

Scott opened the door to the room he was after and pulled Mitch inside, and turned to face him.

“Why are you so afraid of my father?” He asked immediately.

“I’ve heard… stories…”

“Stories?”

“About you.”

“About me? Why are you afraid of him then?”

“No. About you and him.”

“What about me and him? It still doesn’t explain why you’re scared shitless of him.” He waves his hands around.

“That he… Y’know…”

“No, I don’t know. That he what?”

“…you.” Mitch mumbled.

“That he did what to me?”

Mitch looked around then whispered: “That he… whipped you.”

Scott froze. “Oh.” He sighed. “Where did you hear that from?”

“My Dad’s friend. He used to be a guard here. He said he heard whip noises coming from your bedroom.”

“He did hear whip noises. He’s right about that.”

Mitch slumped. “Oh,” he said. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

“…the scars.” He mumbled.

“Oh, honey, no.”

“I won’t judge! I swear! I just wanna see.” Mitch said, reaching for his shirt.

Scott sighed, stopping his hands. “I can’t show you, cause there isn’t any.”

Mitch stopped, confused. “What?” He exhaled, looking up at Scott.

“Look,” he said looking away. “I can’t tell you right now, but I promise I’ll tell you later. I swear.”

“Oh,” Mitch whined, looking down. “I get it.”

“Hey, no. None of that,” he says while lifting Mitch’s head up. “It’s not you, I swear. I haven’t told anyone this, and I want you to be the first person to find out. Even though I’ve known you for like forty-eight hours, I want you to be the first one I tell. I just can’t yet.”

“But your dad has never?”

“Whipped me? No. He hasn’t.”

“But someone else has?”

Scott hesitated. “Not exactly…”

Mitch looked away, scrunching up his face in confusion, which Scott found cute.

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise.”

Mitch looked back at him. “You don’t have to promise me anything.”

“I do, Mitch, trust me.”

“I do trust you, but what if you break your promise?”

“I won’t.”

“How do I know that?”

“You just have to trust me.”

Mitch looked doubtful, but nodded.

“Oh, fuck it.” Mitch’s eyes widened at his curse, but it was long forgotten as Scott leans in and smashes his lips against Mitch’s. He doesn’t respond straight away, out of pure shock. But then he does. He’s on his tip toes, and his arms reach up around Scott’s neck, as their lips move in perfect harmony. Scott’s tongue slides over Mitch’s bottom lip, searching for permission. He smiles into the kiss as Mitch grants it, and they begin French kissing. Mitch feels like he’s done this a million times before, when in reality he hasn’t.

If someone would’ve told him that his first kiss would be with the Prince of Avendale, he would’ve laughed in their face, and would laugh about it for days.

When they break, purely to breathe, Mitch is flat on his feet, arms still wound around Scott’s neck with the biggest grin on his face. They look at each other smiling, panting, with pounding hearts.

“Wow.” Scott sighs.

Mitch is too entranced to respond, so all he does is nod.

Scott takes that as a good sign, and shakes his head while laughing, which makes Mitch smile even more. His pearly white teeth are on display, and it gives Scott butterflies.

“I’ve known you for two days, yet it feels like years.” Is all he says, and Mitch keeps smiling.

“C’mon.”

He takes Mitch’s hand, and leads him to the balcony. Mitch says “wow” at the view of yet another garden, and the town in the distance. If he looks hard enough he can just see the hill he would have to go around to get to Kandallah.

“That isn’t even the good part.” Scott chuckles, and points up. “We’re going up there.”

Mitch looks up, and the look of horror on his face makes Scott laugh. “It’s fine once you get up there.”

“I trust you,” Mitch smiles.

This makes Scott grin as he laces his hands together, and crouches down for Mitch to step into. Mitch looks at him wearily. “You’ll be okay, I’ve got you.” Scott reassures.

Mitch holds onto his shoulders, and places his left foot in his hands. “Jump,” Scott says. So Mitch does. Scott hoists him towards the roof, which he grabs onto, and Scott pushes him the rest of the way up. He’s balanced on his stomach, and swings his left leg up, where he rolls further onto the roof.

Scott just jumps up to grab onto the edge, and pulls himself up.

“Alright, Mr Muscles.” Mitch says, which causes Scott to chuckle.

Scott stands up and puts his hand out for Mitch’s. He grabs on immediately, and is pulled up. When he’s up, neither of them let go. They walk further onto the roof until they reach the very top. At the top it’s flat, and there’s a giant chimney where all the fire places connect to. But as it’s the middle of August, none are running.

Mitch didn’t notice in his first glance, and he didn’t notice until Scott was reaching for it, but there was a wooden box. He didn’t pay much attention to what was in it when Scott opened the lid, as all he could focus on was the warmth that left his hand when Scott let go. He assumed it was just filled with blankets, as Scott now had one in his hands.

He lay the blanket down and sat, patting the space next to him. Instead, Mitch faced him, crossed legged, and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What?” Scott asked suspiciously.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“You already know everything about me.”

“No,” he challenged. “Like you said, I only know the basics. Tell me more. Tell me what makes you happy, what makes you laugh. Tell me the things that you love and your hobbies. Tell me something the entirety of Avendale doesn’t know.”

“Well… I’m a 20-year-old child. My duvet cover is all nice and smart, but if you flip it over it has geometric dinosaurs on it.” Mitch laughs at this.

“I will not eat vegetables. The chefs have tried doing it all fancy, but I still won’t eat it.”

“How are you so muscly then?”

“Lots, and lots of protein.”

“Tell me something about your family.”

“They’re homophobes,” he sighs. “That’s why you’re contracted to me. He was all for you, and your talent, but he read your file and it said you were gay, and he called it quits. I couldn’t let that happen, so here you are. Oh, and just so you know, if you fuck up, it’s my head gone.”

“Literally?” He jumps, eyes wide.

“No, no. Figuratively.” He reassures.

“So, they don’t know about you…”

“Being gay? No. Only Esther, Avi and Kevin know. The staff suspect, but no one has confirmed it.”

“So you’ve never…”

“Never what?”

“… Y’know… with men.” 

“No, I have. But they’re contracted and sworn to secrecy.”

“Contracted? So you see them often?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this Mitch, but there aren’t many gay men in Avendale.”

“And they’re okay with it?” He questions. Mitch is curious now.

“They choose to do it. They can leave when they want, and I’m not stopping them from seeing other people, and they’re fucking the Prince, so yeah, they’re okay with it.”

“How many are there?”

“There’s three.”

“Would you ever stick with one?”

Scott hesitates. “I guess, yeah. But I only would if I loved them.”

They both sat there in silence after that. Mitch had no more questions to ask only thinking about the one he just answered, and Mitch gave Scott no more to answer. This was when he decided to call it a night. He wanted to spend as much time with Mitch as possible, but suddenly his movements were slow, and he sat there in silence, showing signs of exhaustion.

“C’mon, you’re exhausted, let’s get you to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Mitch just nodded, and stood off the blanket so Scott could fold it up and put it securely back into the wooden box. He led Mitch to the edge of the roof, and instructed him to sit and dangle his legs off as he jumped down himself.

“Slide off, I’ll catch you.”

“I can’t. I’m too scared.”

“You’ll be fine. Close your eyes and I’ll catch you.”

Mitch nodded, closed his eyes and slid off with a little screech. When he opened them again he was faced with a smiling Prince. “I said I would catch you.”

He smiled as Scott placed him on the ground, grabbed his hand, and led him through his bedroom and back into the hall.

“Are you going to be afraid of my Dad this time?” He whispered down to Mitch. He could feel the movements of Mitch nodding his head as it was resting on his bicep.

“He doesn’t whip me.” He whispers.

“No, but he’s still scary.” Mitch mumbles, and Scott laughs.

They walk slowly down the flights of stairs, so Mitch’s exhaustion wouldn’t cause him to trip, and so he could still clutch tightly to Scott’s arm.

When they get to the door of Mitch’s room, Scott stops, fully expecting to leave Mitch here, but the door is opened, and he’s dragged inside.

“Will you stay?” Mitch asks shyly. “I didn’t sleep so well last night,” Mitch admits. “And when I couldn’t sleep I’d stay with Mom, and I think you’re a pretty good substitute. Scott smiles and nods.

Mitch rushes into the closet to grab clean clothes, and then into the bathroom screaming, “I’m gonna quickly shower the paint off, and I’ll be back in a sec!” Before Scott could respond.

In the meantime, Scott slips his shoes off, tucks his socks inside of them, and strips to his boxers. He dumps his shirt and pants next to his shoes, and climbs into bed.

He isn’t left waiting for Mitch long, as a few minutes later, he’s walking out in boxers with wet hair, smelling of vanilla and flowers, and is climbing into bed next to him.

The bed is big enough for both of them, but Scott is laying on his back, with Mitch wrapped around his arm, and pressed as close to him as possible.

They lay there staring at each other, until Mitch’s exhaustion wins, and Scott is instructing him to close his eyes. He mumbles a “goodnight,” and his breathing evens out, and a few minutes later he’s fast asleep.

Scott keeps looking him for a while, at how calm and relaxed he looks, the complete opposite of earlier. He has a small smile on his face when Scott murmurs a “goodnight, Mitchy”, and falls asleep not much later.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "the heart is a funny thing. it can break, beat a little faster. but most importantly it can heal. and if you follow it, it can lead you to where you're meant to be. but you never are what you were before." - unknown

Jenny walked into Mitch’s room fully expecting to have a replay of the previous morning after the message Esther relayed to her about the events of the previous day. She was led to believe that Mitch had a mentally exhausting day, and would be just as exhausted physically. She had a tray prepped with coffee, toast, bacon, eggs, and a cup of orange juice, to bribe him out of bed. What she wasn’t expecting to see two bodies intertwined hidden underneath the blankets.

She stood staring at the lumps under the covers, one significantly shorter than the other, which she placed as Mitch.

They were pulled too high up to make out any faces, except a tuff of blonde hair was visible. There weren’t many blonde people in the palace, let alone men. She gasped as she realised who it was, dumped the tray and ran, slamming the door on the way out.

Mitch jolted awake when he heard a loud bang. He groaned and stuffed his head under his pillow, feeling the movements of the man next to him. He slid his head from under the pillow and smiled at the sleeping Prince next to him.

Minimal light seeped into the room because of the curtains, but there was a yellow hue that brought a glow to his skin, and made his blonde locks golden. He propped himself up on his elbows, and couldn’t help but to reach his hand out to brush away the hair that hung in his face. Scott looked so peaceful like this. Being an heir to the throne obviously created a load on his shoulders that wore him down.

Mitch’s touch alongside the slamming door brought Scott to. His eyes fluttered open, and was faced with a smiling petite boy. “Morning, Beautiful.” He muttered.

“Morning,” Mitch mumbled in reply.

The light that was making his hair golden, made his eyes an icy blue, and the huskiness and calmness of his morning voice almost made Mitch swoon.

“Did you sleep better?” Was the first thing he asked.

Mitch genuinely thought about it. He couldn’t remember the night before as vividly as he usually did, and he couldn’t recall sitting in bed just lying there. So, yes. He did.

“I did,” he says, pleased about his honest answer.

“Good. That’s good.” Scott says as he yawns.

He shuffles onto his side so that he’s facing Mitch.

They sit eye to eye in silence until Mitch speaks. “Tell me about your boys,” he says.

“My boys?” Scott asks, confused.

“Yeah, your boys,” Mitch confirms. “The ones who are… y’know… to you.”

“Contracted?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That.”

Scott huffs, it’s too early in the morning to immediately respond to questions like that.

“Okay. There’s Maxwell, who’s buff as hell, Keegan, who’s also buff as hell, and then there’s Julien, who loves to cook, and paint, so you should get along with him pretty nicely. Keegan and Maxwell are partners, so there’s no getting between them.” Scott chuckled.

“So, they’re like… together?” Mitch asks.

“Yes, and no. They’re part of the guard squad, and they’re partnered together. But, they’re also together.”

“And they’re okay with each other seeing you?” He questions, his face scrunches up as he repositions himself cross-legged on top of the blankets, facing Scott.

“I don’t see them individually, Mitch.”

Mitch freezes, mouth agape. “So you have a three-some? All the time?” He says, shocked.

Scott laughs. “Yes,” he nods. “I do.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find one gay man in Kandallah, let alone two? Its unheard of! But even a straight couple plus a man or woman to have a threesome? One of them would be considered gay afterwards, so no one dares. On the regular, as well? Jesus, the royalty of this country isn’t what everyone thinks.” He mumbles.

Scott can’t help but laugh at the strangeness of this conversation in general, but early in the morning makes it even funnier.

“Do you regret coming yet?” Scott asks with a straight face, and a twinge of anxiety in his voice.

Mitch looks up at him. “Hell no. If this is just the beginning… I can’t wait!” He laughs.

Scott smiles at the sudden excitement in the small boy.

“The only drama we had at the farm was if our s tock was going to make it through the drought season, and which male sheep is the father of the baby lamb, because the mother is a slut.” He says, seriously. “This is a rare treat, which I’d be stupid to give up.”

They both smile.

“Look, Mitch,” Scott says, “You can’t say anything to anyone about my boys, alright? Only the most important people know.”

Mitch nods. “Who knows?” He asks, brushing his sleep strained hair out of his face.

“Kevin and Avi.”

“Kevin and Avi? That’s it?”

“Yes,” he nods. “And now you.”

“Me.” He whispers, looking down at his hands. The room is eerily silent, and Scott can practically see the wheels churning in Mitch’s head.

Mitch doesn’t know how to handle this information. He’s been told some stuff that staff who have been here for years are clueless about, and he’s been here a mere forty-eight hours and yet, the Prince is revealing secrets about himself to him already. Maybe his intentions for Mitch aren’t for him to just be the Palace photographer, and artist. There could potentially be hidden meanings behind everything, and he’s clueless about it.

The thought conflicts Mitch. He would never want to be used in that way. Purely for sex, and pleasure. He had his first kiss yesterday, and he isn’t prepared to lose his virginity to someone who doesn’t really care about his feelings, but rather the things he can do to bring pleasure.

Mitch likes the Prince. At least he thinks he does. Maybe it’s the idea of being with a Prince. Or the idea of someone filling that pit of loneliness his family couldn’t fill. Maybe it was the idea of being in a relationship that he likes, so when the opportunity came along, he was reaching for it with grabby hands.

Mitch was so deep into thought that he forgot the man he’s confused about was laying in the bed he’s sitting on.

He looks up, and Scott’s gazing at him like he was waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry, what?” He says, mumbling the words with an ache in his chest and a pounding heart.

“Are you alright?” The Prince asks, with his eyebrows knit together, and wrinkles in his forehead.

“Yeah,” Mitch nods, looking at his hands. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? You don’t look like it.”

“I just… I just need to think.” Mitch says, standing from the bed, and heading to the closet to throw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans.

He shoves his feet into his boots and walks to the window. Mitch takes a deep breath, looking at the flowers, and their bright colours. He imagines what the smell like in the early morning. He visualises what they will look like in autumn when their petals start to fall, a vibrant contrast to the soil below them. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to mellow the anxiety beginning to pit in his chest.

“Was it something I said?” He asks with a tremor in his voice, and a shake in his hands. Scott sees the way Mitch has to calm himself, and seriously begins to panic that he said something to offend the petite boy.

“No, no. I just thought of something that I need to process.” Mitch denies, waving his hands at Scott and taking a step closer to the occupied bed.

“Talk to me, Mitch. I’m here. Let me help.”

“I can’t!” He cries, desperation in his voice and a weight in his chest. His hands flail around as the air suddenly becomes heavy, so he struggles to breathe. His dusty brown hair sticks to his forehead in a sweaty mess as his bare chest heaves up and down in desperation for air. He begins to pace, and cry because he can’t breathe, and then begins to panic even more because of the lack of air to his lungs.

Scott jumps from his spot to comfort the panicking boy. He holds Mitch’s face in between his hands, forcing Mitch to look at him. He reaches one of his hands to grab one of Mitch’s and places it on his own chest. Mitch looks at it as he can feel the steady heartbeat under his fingertips.

He was no longer focusing on his unsteady breaths, but rather the steady ones of Scott’s. He looks up to see a soft smile and icy blues eyes that should harsh, and sharp, but are rather oddly serene and comforting.

Mitch’s mind was flickering between the hopeless thoughts of falling in love with the Prince and the thoughts that he was nothing but trouble.

Mitch was not prepared to participate in this endless game Scott was beginning to play. His heart is sacred and squeaky clean, and Mitch isn’t ready to throw it away with the snap of the fingers of a royal.

Mitch was raised to know the difference between right and wrong, and sacrificing his heart and soul to please the future leader was definitely not right.

But he was falling into a pit of happiness, bright colours, and love that felt oh so good. He has never felt this much joy in his heart, but he’s also never had this much anxiety. A mere forty-eight hours has simultaneously given him the best hours of his life but also the worst, and Mitch didn’t know how to handle it.

His blood was pumping so fast he could feel a tingle in his fingertips, he feels as if he wants to smile all the time, that his mind is consumed in the thought of him and everything reminds him of Scott. That whatever is happening in the world doesn’t matter because time stops as soon as he looks at him, because Scott is all that matters.

But, his heart is pounding with the sense of doubt pitted deep into his stomach. That everything Scott says or does means something deeper than what’s at the surface because Mitch is seeing what he wants to instead of what is actually there. He feels like he can’t breathe because he’s being suffocated with a mixture of lies and truths, and he can’t tell which is what, so he takes all of it and he can’t handle it. So he wants to curl up and cry.

Mitch is overwhelmed with fear and happiness, and he realises that when he looks into Scott’s baby blue eyes. He finally comes to his senses when he feels light-headed, and the room begins to spin.

Instead of struggling to breathe, Mitch just didn’t.

He sees the wrinkles on Scott’s forehead from his scrunched-up eyebrows, and the look of worry plastered on his face, as he mouths “Mitch!”

He has an “oh shit!’ moment when he realises he isn’t mouthing it, the ringing in his ears is real and that he subconsciously isn’t breathing. He coughs and sputters a breath when he’s met with a: “what the hell, Mitch! What was that?”

Mitch snorts and shakes his head. He laughs at the look of uneasiness on Scott’s face.

“That was an anxiety attack, my dear Prince.” Mitch bows for dramatic effect and walks out the door. He turns into the nearest hallway and leans against the wall.

Closing his eyes, he takes a moment to recollect his breathing, and to calm the shaking in his hands. He can hear the loud – but steady – thumping of his heart in his chest. His leather bracelet shivers on his wrist as he reaches to feel his pulse. Sporadic, but there.

Mitch knew the good was far too good to be true.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pain. You just have to ride it out. Hope it goes away. Hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions. No easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time, pain can be managed. But sometimes, the pain gets you when you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Pain. You just have to fight through. Because the truth is, you can't outrun it. And life always makes more." - Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy

Mitch had successfully avoided the Prince for the rest of his first week at the palace. He’d lasted five days hiding around corners, and ducking his small frame behind co-workers to avoid the watchful gaze of the future King. Apart from internal doubts, he had no concrete reason as to why he didn’t want to see the Prince and he didn’t want to have to explain that to his face.

He had finally met the infamous Kevin, and had taken quite a liking to him. He was a man with an obligated buff exterior, being a Palace Guard, but he had a heart of gold, and his insides were nothing but mush. Kevin reminded Mitch a lot of his mother and it brought comfort to him. Maybe that’s why they got along so well, and Mitch often sought out Kevin’s company.

Kevin’s shift had finished an hour ago, not long after the luxurious staff dinner. Mitch had made Kevin promise him a tea date in his room afterwards. 

Mitch sat on the light blue couch in Kevin’s room. It was the fluffiest, most comfortable couch he’d found in the palace, and he’d always curl up on it every opportunity he got. He currently sat with his feet tucked underneath his body, as close as his flexibility would allow. There was this shaggy quilt that Mitch loves. When he found it, Kevin explained his mother made it while she was ill. Mitch thought that meant she had cancer and died, and panicked when he said that as he felt heartless. Kevin held his stomach and let out a hearty laugh, shocking Mitch, and explained that it was his fault for the confusion, but he meant when she had a cold or something, which she’d get a lot because of her shitty immune disorder. Kevin felt no sympathy, and found it hilarious, and that’s when Mitch knew they’d get along just fine.

Mitch sat with the quilt draped over his lap as he sat sipping his tea, Kevin across from him when he asked, “how’s your life going?”

Kevin chuckled and put his tea, herbal, down on the coffee table, (which he argued should be a called a ‘beverage table’ because not everyone drinks coffee) shuffles into a better position, and smiles.

The windows were open ajar, with a cool breeze seeping in along with the scent of rain and wet concrete. The breeze didn’t make Mitch cold, but it did bring goose-bumps to his bare skin and make his arm hairs stick up.

Mitch brings his mug to his lips, blowing the hot liquid before taking a sip.

“What?” He asks suspiciously.

Kevin smile grows as he claps and clasps his hands together.

“Well,” he says, a massive grin on his face. “I have gossip.”

“Ooh,” Mitch smiles. “Do tell.”

“Avi has a crush.” He rushes out, and Mitch nearly spits out his tea.

Kevin laughs. “I’m spilling the tea,” he says, laughing. “Not you.”

Mitch just glares at him while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You couldn’t resist, could you?” 

Kevin shakes his head, smirking.

Mitch’s shirt now has splotches of drink on it, and all he can smell is the musky substance.

“Avi has a crush on who?”

“He wouldn’t tell me her name, but she’s a short blondie from Kandallah.”

Mitch stops. “Kandallah?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m from Kandallah you dick!”

“Oh. OH. I forgot about that.”

“You forgot? Where did you think I was from then?”

“I don’t know, I just never thought about it.”

“Who is she? I might know her.”

Kevin laughs, “I thought you were a town nobody?”

Mitch smiles, snuggling closer into the couch. “I wasn’t a nobody per se. I just wasn’t a relevant somebody.”

“Does that even make sense?” Kevin questions.

Mitch giggles, “no, not really.”

“Anyway, I didn’t get any more details, you have to ask Avi.”

Mitch laughed and shook his head. “Avi hates me.”

“Avi doesn’t hate you.”

“He hates me.” Mitch nods. He brought his legs to his chest, hugging them, while he rested his head on his knees. “I did absolutely nothing to him, but he hates me.”

“That’s why he hates you.”

Mitch sighs. He’s tried his best to have good behaviour, to please everyone, and do no one displeasure. But, in doing so, he’s done the exact opposite. 

“But how does that make any sense?”

Kevin shakes his head, “this is Avi, he makes no sense.”

“That’s not helpful, Kevin.” He says, readjusting so he’s tucked back into the couch.

“Look, Mitchy, I know you want to please everyone, but these are stuck up city gals. Avi grew up here, they’re basically royalty at this point, nothing you do will please them. Speaking of,” he shakes his head and leans back into the chair. “Have you talked to Scott yet?”

“What do you think?” Mitch asks, eyebrows raised, and arms crossed.

Kevin laughs, “you should do something about that.”

“Oh, yeah, and what do I say?” He asks, arms flailing, “’I’m sorry your Highness, I’m avoiding you because I have a massive crush on you, and it’s kind of illegal’?” Mitch stands up, pacing.

“Oh, or I could say: ‘I’m sorry your Highness, I have no valid reason for avoiding you, besides the fact that I have trouble with boys, so I don’t believe this is actually real, and it’s all one sided’. How ‘bout that Kev, is that a good thing to say?” He exclaims.

Kevin holds his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, Mitch, you’re suffering here, and I’m trying to help.”

“With more suffering?”

“Unfortunately, with more suffering.”

Mitch closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His heart is pounding, and getting all worked up will do nothing but raise his blood pressure, so it’s not a good idea. He walks to the window, and looks out at his much-loved garden.

“Kevvy, I love it here. I don’t ever want to go back home where I’m an irrelevant somebody. I’m respected here, I have friends here. I’m getting paid to do what I love. I don’t ever want to go back to that hell-hole. If I’m caught, even accused, of fraternizing with the Prince I’m out. I like him a lot, but there’s too much at stake to risk it. This is guaranteed to be one sided, Kev. If the Prince finds out I have a massive crush on him, I’m gone. I can’t stand to see him without my heart breaking, knowing that it’s only me. It’ll destroy me, and I can’t handle it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t know, what? Kev. Everything seems pretty self-explanatory.” He rubs his forehead with his hands in frustration. His palms are clammy and his heart is thumping in his chest. 

“How he feels. You haven’t asked him, so you can’t just assume.” Kevin explains, resting his chin on his hand.

“I think you missed a massive part. I’m not going to ask him because he’s the Prince of Avendale!” Mitch shouts, hands flailing. “I’m going to live in ignorant bliss for as long as I can.”

“Man, you’re so pessimistic.”

“And you’re so optimistic,” Mitch grins.

“What can I say? I’m a happy man.” He smiles. 

Mitch’s smile drops, as he looks at his fumbling fingers. “I wish I was too Kev, I’m getting there, but the getting there is so damn hard and painful, honestly, I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.” He says, looking at Kevin, eyes watering and pulse racing. 

Kevin gets to his feet and embraces Mitch in a hug, and squeezes him tight. Mitch buries his head in the crook of his neck, enjoying the warmth and the cuddliness of the broader man. Kevin can feel the frigidness of his skin, and the goosebumps on his arms. 

“Remember this,” Kevin says, rubbing Mitch’s back. “You will get years, and years of pure joy and happiness, with the one you love. Who cares if it hurts at first, life isn’t meant to be easy. You have to fight through the pain, and then you get to celebrate once it doesn’t hurt anymore. You fought for it so you deserve it. Mitch, fight for the happiness. You fight like hell and you smile when it’s over.”

“I’ve never fought before! I live a lonely life, where I fought to not eat my vegetables, or to be allowed outside after dark to paint! I’ve never had to fight for something that makes my chest hurt, my hands shake, my knees weak and makes me want to cry and smile at the same time! I want to kiss him, I want to kiss him so bad. I want to hold him and keep safe. I want to make love, and moan his name. I want to have little blonde and blue-eyed babies with him. I want to be his Queen and rule the world with him. I want to grow old with him and die in his arms by the fireplace. I want to love him.” Mitch sighs.

“So, do it!” 

“I can’t!” He cries.

“But why?”

“Because! Because I feel like I’m constantly having a heart attack! I want to punch him, and bruise him, and call him names. I want to play sick twisted games to mess with his head because he’s messing with mine! I want to crush his heart in my hands as payback for all the pain he’s causing. I want to be able to say his name without wanting to cry. Because I… I hate him.”


End file.
